


We're Out of Time

by RoknRollPumpkin



Category: Kingsman (Movies), Sleepy Hollow (TV)
Genre: Crack Crossover, Crossover, Crossover Pairings, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-07
Updated: 2020-12-07
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:20:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27942164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoknRollPumpkin/pseuds/RoknRollPumpkin
Summary: Abbie Mills makes another unplanned "visit" to an EXTREMELY far removed member of her extended family tree. Jack Daniels/Whiskey happens to be there on business and gets suspicious, but of course has his own secrets *ominous music plays ambiently in my subconscious*.
Kudos: 2





	We're Out of Time

**Author's Note:**

> Really just posting this bit to hold myself accountable (and finish!). It's not crucial to know what went down in Tempus Fugit (S2E18 of Sleepy Hollow) but it'd certainly make things less baffling. So sorry for any vagueness in historical detail (ya girl is not great at research).

_Louisville, Kentucky. 1971._

Being a highly trained operative, Jack Daniels’ ability to sense sudden mood shifts in a room was what even his superiors would call advanced. So, as the air around him ebbed, quite rapidly, from surprise at his arrival to markedly concealed panic, he made a note to himself, put on his best “people person” face, and removed his hat.

“Mr. Davis! I wasn’t -- What brings you by at this hour?”

The Professor was clearly flustered, which was nothing out of the ordinary as Jack had concluded about these PhD types (he’d forgotten their appointment after all), but just a tick more than usual. He made another note to himself, along with the young woman he spotted seated at the table in the kitchen of the Dixon residence. She’d tensed up a bit at his appearance, but Jack chalked it up to her not expecting anyone either.

“Pardon the intrusion, Sir,” he began. “I’m here regardin’ the matter of those uh -- materials you’d previously agreed to assistin’ myself and colleagues with.”

“The -- Oh, yes, the materials, of course. Just a moment, if you would please, Mr. Davis.” Dixon’s stammering eased its way out of his speech as he gestured to the seat closest to Jack, before delivering a tense glance to the young woman in the kitchen.

Again, being a highly trained operative, Jack Daniels was never one to let his suspicions linger, and he’d never forgive himself if he didn’t perform his due diligence as a professional.

**********

“Madam?” 

Abbie did her best to blend into her new environment, which she realized would be next to impossible now. Still, she glanced up under the cover of the shadow that now loomed over her, giving a curt smile in the hope it would drive this intruder out of her space (the fact that she held the title of intruder less than a few short hours before notwithstanding).

“Hello.”

This man, to Abbie’s quiet discontent, seemed amused at her response as he shifted his weight to his back leg and drew his hands up to rest on his belt. She barely suppressed a groan when she spotted the steer head emblazoned on the silver buckle.

“My mama raised a good son, so thought I’d introduce myself. I’m Jack,” he said, extending a hand.

 _A complete stranger and a talker is what I do_ **_not_ ** _need right now_ , Abbie thought to herself as she squeezed the hand as gingerly and quickly as possible, still unsure of any unforeseen consequences of her impromptu adventure.

“Hi, Jack. Pleasure to meet you.”

The smirk that had crept onto his face and pulled the side of his moustached top lip up just so the moment he’d approached her only grew more pronounced at that reply. He pondered her quietly for several beats.

“Perhaps its just my mama talking again, but aren’t introductions a two-way street?”

Abbie took her hands, which threatened to ball into fists more with each passing second, from the table top and firmly clasped them before placing them into her lap. She didn’t need to evaluate his persistence before deciding she didn’t like it. Not now. She nodded.

“Right. I suppose they are. I’m… Abigail.”

“Abigail.” He spoke each syllable like it would set off a bomb. “That’s a beautiful name, if you don’t mind me sayin’ so.”

Now it was Abbie’s turn to ponder the moment.

“I don’t.” She really didn’t. And, perhaps playing nice wasn’t the worst tactic.

“So,” Jack began as he seated himself in the chair on the other side of the table. “I take it you’re one a’ Dixon’s students, or…?”

“... You could say that. He’s taught me quite a bit.” Abbie was becoming less sure of herself, but letting this man create his own narrative around her existence seemed like a practical way to avoid any direct answers.

Not that he’d believe them. 

“He’s a brilliant man,” she finished, noting Jack’s raised eyebrow.

“That he is,” Jack agreed. “I’ve certainly found him to be a reputable source.”

And now Abbie was curious. After all, Jack was technically the intruder.

“Oh? In what way?”

“Oh, this and that,” Jack shrugged. “But why not tell me a bit about what you’re studyin’?”

Unaccustomed to being on the opposite end of an interrogation, Abbie stifled a chuckle.

“Oh, you know. This and that.”

Jacks smile threatened to split his face clean in two, and while Abbie often relished in agitating men she knew believed were bigger, better, and smarter than her, she thought better of it for the moment. The sooner she could be rid of this man, the better.

**********

Jack didn’t resent the impending loss of his youth when his charm went a bit further with women. It was only one of the tools of his trade, after all. But this Abigail wasn’t giving him an inch, which only made him more curious, and doing what he did for a living nudged that curiosity into suspicion.

The Statesmen had been employing the use of the historical research of Professor Nanthanial Dixon for the better part of a decade now, though they kept the precise nature of how they used that work shrouded to a necessary degree (hence, to Dixon, he was Jack Davis). Though he was a shrewd man, he was surprisingly eager to assist the Statesmen at their “private investigation” firm, having done similar work with local law enforcement and the like.

As with all consultants, The Statesmen had seen to it that he was properly vetted (albeit much more thoroughly than implied) due to the delicate nature of some of the work, and no one— not family, not friends —so much as approached his front door without HQ being privy to the nature of the relationship, for the safety of everyone.

No one until today, that is.

Stereotypically eccentric and just a touch bumbling, it wasn’t uncommon for a check-in with one of the agents to slip Dixon’s mind. But his reaction to Jack's appearance while this woman —- Abigail — was already in the house raised enough of a red flag for Jack to give her a quick pass and report to HQ if needed.

And he wouldn’t have thought it needed if he didn’t find the woman so… odd.

Jack would be the first to admit he wasn’t up on fashion trends, but the woman’s styling seemed a bit more akin to a biker than that of a young student visiting a college professor. A leather jacket—both the cut and detailing a bit more modern than his liking (he was more of a tweed/wool man)—over a t-shirt and jeans (markedly unflared as was typical of the time). The garments were plain enough, though a bit more form fitting and revealing than he would expect as well. 

Not that he was complaining. She was currently seated but it was clear she had quite a form indeed.

No, Jack was sure he’d never seen a woman quite like her period, let alone inside the house of one of the Statesmen’s longest running consultants.

“This and that,” Jack echoed with a smile. “Glad to see the field ain’t dead.” His fingers drummed the table as he mulled over his next approach when Dixon flitted down the staircase and joined them at the table, several stuffed Manila file folders spilling onto the surface.

“Ah, Mr. Davis. I see you’ve met my… niece. I apologize for the lack of proper introduction.”

“Your niece??” Jack surprised himself further with the bass of his own voice.

“A tad far removed,” Abigail chimed in mundanely, her posture pointedly more relaxed now that her apparent uncle had returned. 

“I—wow. Never woulda guessed. I mean I didn’t expect someone so—“

“Black?” Abigail cut in, a bit of the iciness Jack initially clocked trickling into her tone. He cleared his throat.

“Well now, family’s family, ain’t it?”

“Abbie here is on a bit of a scholarly retreat,” Dixon noted, the narrowed look he shot her over his wired spectacles not unnoticed by Jack. “She’s quite interested in my recent findings on the history of the local freemasons chapter.”

Jack furrowed his brow.

“The _alleged_ local freemasons chapter,” Dixon offered. “A bit of lore is always a fun angle. Isn’t that right, Abbie?”

Jack observed the woman’s forced smile and concluded he’d not get much else out of her with Dixon present.

“Ah, I see. Well I won’t keep yah. If you don’t mind I’ll collect all this,” he gestured to the stack of documents. “... and be on my way, if I might offer my gratitude first.”

“Oh, yes,” Dixon snapped back into a proper scholarly tone and helped Jack gather the material from the table. “A quick word about this set of interviews before you go…”

As he descended the steps of the front porch, Jack resolved to look into this Abigail within as much time as it took for Dixon’s door the swing shut behind him.

**********

“Well now, Miss Mills,” Nathaniel huffed out, the tension in his shoulders now dissipated with the click of the door lock. “What say we figure out how to get you back to 2016, hm?”


End file.
